


Hidden In The Stars Above

by MamaCake



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Titles, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17733779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaCake/pseuds/MamaCake
Summary: 'Think about it, there must be higher loveDown in the heart or hidden in the stars aboveWithout it, life is a wasted timeLook inside your heart, I'll look inside mine.'- Higher Love, Steve WinwoodI like to think that when Drift was exiled, Rodimus found it in himself to track him down and bring him back as a nice surprise for a certain medic so this is what this is.





	Hidden In The Stars Above

**Author's Note:**

> I know that it's totally awesome when Drift and Ratchet show up in the comics like boom we're back, but I always had this idea in my head it would be super cute when they found each other again. I had to write it, and I'm sorry it's maybe too cute for Drift/Ratchet and yes Rodimus takes the brunt of a pissed off Drift, but I'm a hopeless romantic at heart. 
> 
> I really hope you guys like it because I think it might be my favourite that I've written so far for them. Also I suck at writing Magnus and Megatron, so I apologise for that, I tried to keep their part short and less painful, I just can't capture their characters. 
> 
> Oh and I made up the little fluffy alien, I suck at making up aliens too 😂 I literally just thought about if my cat was an alien and tada!

Drift was relieved when his shuttle let him know that his destination was approaching and he'd be able to untangle himself from his chair and see something other than the starmap that crawled by with every passing cycle. He threw his legs down from where he'd rested them over one of the arms of the chair, his joints clicking audibly.

At first it had been comforting, to be so far away and being able to lose himself almost the nothingness, but now the more he stared at it, the more it reinforced how far away and how lonely he was. Although he never exactly interacted with anyone when he stopped at a refuelling station, it was nice to know that he wasn't the only one in the desolate corners of the universe. The days when he was travelling were the hardest, when he was actually out making a difference the emotional weight wasn't so heavy to carry.  

He rubbed at his aching shoulder that had popped out of place when he'd twisted out of the grasp of a Decepticon only a few days earlier. The pain had reverberated down into his whole frame when he'd had to clunk it right back into place and he knew that if _someone_ else had done it-

No. He had to keep him shut out, locked away. Otherwise he'd go find the Lost Light and fight his way into the ship just for one more moment with him.

When he'd docked and refuelled, he was making the most of being able to walk around without being hunched and he was wandering aimlessly amongst the other alien lifeforms around him eyeing them carefully for any sign of trouble. Some bigger, some smaller, some organic, some not, but never another like him. Cybertronians weren't exactly welcome everywhere, their notorious trouble making streak preceded them, but by now he'd gotten an idea of where was safe for him. Although it was hard, always looking over your own shoulder.

As Drift made his way back to his ship, wondering about who or what he could make a difference to next, he felt a light tap at his knee. He glanced down with a slight raise of an optic ridge at the impossibly furry, grey thing peering up at him with eyes that were shining green slits. He cycled through his processor for whether he knew this species, a Preema he thought, and he knew not to touch it without permission even if they were kind of cute and fluffy. Instinctively, his fingers twitched when he wondered if it was an ambush.

There was a headset nestled over its head and it tapped it, and Drift bent down a little, opening his comms channel so he could understand what was about to be said to him. The translating voice that spoke to him was scratchy and high pitched even though the Preema's own language was full of hushed whispers.

“Cybertronian right? And you all have names or something to recognise each other? You kinda look the same to me.”

He tried to reign in his announce at the remark, setting his features as neutrally as he could manage and tweaking his vocals into something considered polite. He didn't want to cause any offense even if that's all he was getting.

“Yes, what is it you want?”

“C'mon, _name_ , I need to know whether this message is for the right humongous walking trash can.”

Drift offlined his optics briefly in irritation and then on again as he felt the small tap against his knee. He realised the Preema was using one of its two fluffy tails to nudge him rather than the small little fists concealed mostly by its fur.

“I know you're not exactly social things but jeez, gimme a break.”

He relented, “Drift.”

“Ah it is you. I was told to look for a serious, _dangerous_ looking loner.”

Preema's never had any tact, they were straight to the point in everything, they could never be accused of fakeness or feigned politeness. Drift knew he wanted to save as many as he could in the Universe, but he was starting to have seconds thoughts when he realised how rude some of them could be. He shook his helm a little and the alien continued over the comms channel.

“Anyway, I got this message left here from someone, called uh… Roddy Mus?”

Drift's lines went to ice. Either something was wrong or they were trying to track him down for further punishment. He tried to keep the panic away that was trying to escape in a flurry of questions, especially when he thought of the one mech he'd vowed to protect but was no longer able to. He knew this creature wouldn't have all of the answers he wanted and so he composed himself enough to speak calmly.

“What did he say?”

“Just that you needed to contact the _Last_ _Light_ as soon as possible. I think that was it, you all have weird names for stuff.” The Preema twitched its head under the fluff, “I reckon it's important though, my kin works on a different station and they said they got the same message. Almost like it's been left everywhere for you.”

Through the rising anxiety and confusion, Drift managed to thank the Preema, and it caught him off guard by pushing its head against his knee briefly in thanks.

“I heard what you been doing, you saved some of my other kin you know? Thanks for looking out for the little guys.”

As it bounded away with a fluid little scurry, Drift didn't wait around to head back to his shuttle or think too much about the gratitude he'd been shown.

He was hunched over in the chair in front of the communication array for some time, not wanting to click it to life for the first time since he'd been exiled in case what he heard changed his life. He'd had enough of change.

With a quick hope to Primus that he was on his side, he plucked up the courage to patch through a voice call.

“This is Ultra Magnus, aboard the Lost Light, who-”

“Magnus,” he cleared the static in his vocaliser, “it's Drift.”

“Drift,” there was no emotion behind the words, “I will alert Rodimus.”

As the comms went quiet, he drummed his digits against the arm of the chair to disperse some of the nervous energy in him. This wasn't how he handled tricky situations, usually so calm and composed, but he knew that the reason he was so worried was in case his one big fear had come to life. He knew it would swallow him whole with grief and guilt if it had.

Just as he was about to speak again to make sure they were still connected, he heard muffled voices and then the one that he didn't particularly want to hear filled the small space of his shuttle with joviality. It felt wrong when it had only ever been filled with sadness and angst.

“Drift!”

“Rodimus.”

“How are you doing buddy?!”

Drift's spark flickered with anger in his chest. This is what he was going to be like, after everything and turning him away without so much as an apology? He could barely conceal the venom in his reply.

“Really? _Really?_ This is how we're going to do this?”

Rodimus dropped his vocals, “Drift, listen-”

“No, _you_ listen, you don't get to waltz back into my life when it suits you and act like I've been on vacation, I was _exiled_ because of reasons that-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I screwed up okay?”

The admittance of fault stopped Drift briefly, before the crushing loneliness and isolation of the past few months came back to him and he gripped his hands tightly against the arm rests.

“For once, there's no exaggeration with you.”

“Hey, you usually like my exaggerations.”

“I thought maybe when it came to apologising to me, you might be less… you.”

There was a loud ex-vent over the channel and Drift waited, his optics narrowed even though his friend wasn't there to see it. It made him feel slightly better.

“Okay. I more than screwed up but… ah. I miss you alright? Come back.”

He laughed humourlessly and with slight awe of how easily Rodimus thought he'd relent. It was going to take more than his stupid charisma to get Drift back.

“No.”

“No?”

“Why? Give me one good reason Rodimus, one _selfless_ reason. I'm making a difference out here, I've found my place and I finally feel like I'm evening my score, like the guilt is lessening with everyone I save.”

“...you're going to make me say it aren't you?”

The silence stretched between them, hostile on Drift's part and hesitant on Rodimus’. The white mech thought he knew what he was going to say, who he was going to mention, and he didn't want him to use it against him because he knew what decision he'd make. Instead Rodimus surprised him, apparently he wasn't going to make this a guilt trip.

“Okay. _I'm sorry._ Happy now? _I am_ , I can sense your cynicism from here, and you'll never hear it again so treasure it alright?”

“So you're not going to mention…”

“What? That old grump? Pfft, Chromedome and Rewind taught me that. He's fine, as can be for someone pining.”

“Wait? Rewind? But…?”

The grin was clearly in Rodimus’ vocals, “we have so much to catch up on. What d'ya say? I'll even give you a free punch if it’d make you feel better. Just not the face, I need that.”

Drift thought carefully. It was a difficult decision, and he needed to consider it fully before he made a rash one.

He knew what his spark wanted, and he couldn't wait to see the medic again. He'd already leant over to open his GPS and enter whatever coordinates Rodimus would give him. There was a small flicker of a smile on his face, for the first time in a long time, and he was glad he might have a genuine reason to open the favourite bottle of engex he had stashed in the back of his chair. A lot of the time he merely held it, thinking of how red hands had touched it too, but it quickly made him sad so he would stash it away with the emotion that accompanied it. Other times when the anger and loneliness was too much, he'd grasp the top of it, threatening to open it and empty it in one sitting, but then he'd think about how he wanted to share it again. The first proper time they'd spent alone together was a memory he often settled on, and it helped calm the storm inside.

The hard decision wasn't about going back, it was about where exactly he was going to sock it to Rodimus. He might be his best friend, maybe his only friend, but sometimes he was absolutely and definitely a humongous jerk.

“One thing.” Drift spoke softly, “don't tell him… I'm coming back. I want to see his face for myself.”

“Done, but you know he'll swing for me too when he finds out I've been hiding it from him.”

“I'm counting on it.”

Drift grinned as Rodimus gave him coordinates for the Lost Light's current and hopefully longer term location, and although he knew it would take him a little while to get there in such a tiny ship, the journey back towards his love would be infinitely better than the journey away.

* * *

 

Ratchet was in a bad mood, a seriously bad mood, possibly the worst ever. He'd argued with Rodimus over Brainstorm receiving what he'd considered light punishment once again and he couldn't help the itching in his feet. He knew what he wanted to do, and what he should do, but he was hesitant too. What if he didn't find Drift? Or even worst, he did find him, but not in a state he wanted to.

He'd spent so long in his processor tossing and turning these thoughts over that he'd come to a standstill. He wanted to go, but the longer he'd left it more doubts and fears had crept in and nestled against the will to leave.

So here he was, once again, tidying the immaculate medbay that didn't need an ounce of tidying because at least here he was alone and could be angry. He'd already relented his CMO title to First Aid a few weeks previously knowing he couldn't give the job his all any more, not with his processor wandering all the time and his spark aching with loss.

He touched the blade that he'd worn since Drift had left it for him, never having to use it but he liked the comfort it held, especially when the hand of grief brushed across him and tried to strangle his spark. Turning his attention back to the berths he wanted to clean for the third time that day, he had barely started when there was a knock at the door.

Briefly, he considered telling who it was where to go, because only one crew member could knock so obnoxiously, but then he decided it wouldn't matter, he'd only be delaying the inevitable for a few more seconds.

Rubbing just under the front of his helm, he let Rodimus know he could come in and then started to wipe the berth down carefully.

“I thought, as you keep reminding me when you barge in, the captain didn't need to knock.”

“I didn't want you to throw something at us! Because you've been especially cantankerous just lately.”

“Rodimus,” he growled without turning back, “don't start, I've already had one _disagreement_ with you today.”

“I come bearing a peace offering this time.”

“If it's anything like the last _present_ you brought me, I don't want it.”

Rodimus chuckled, “oh the nurse's outfit? C'mon, that was hilarious! And Whirl _made_ me.”

Ratchet ex-vented and turned. He was going to throw Rodimus forcefully out of here and after that he was going to-

His tanks dropped. To the side of a ridiculously smug looking Rodimus, was Drift. He was stood waiting patiently, a small smile on his face and Ratchet's trained optics couldn't help but notice the state of his battered frame. He wasn't sure exactly what to say or do, so he stated the astoundingly obvious whilst still looking totally bewildered.

“Drift, you're back?”

“Am I? Never noticed.”

There was a twinkle in his optics as he said it, and the smile deepened a little. Rodimus leant onto his friend, Drift wincing at the pressure on the shoulder that was still sore from his own medical ministrations, and grinned in that roguish way he was good at.

“You're welcome by the way.”

“You knew?”

“More like he left me a message at every fuel station begging me to come back because he couldn't cope without me.” Drift flicked his optics over at his friend, “And he _missed_ me.”

“ _Please_ , if I want someone to tell me I've fragged up again I've got plenty eager to do that. Anyway, I've got important _captain_ business type things to do, so I'll leave you to it!”

He clapped his hands together eagerly, eyeing Ratchet in the hope of a thanks and if he was optimistic then maybe an apology too, but instead the medic pointed at the door deadpan.

“Shut it behind you, for once.”

“And I thought maybe you'd be slightly less sullen now you'd be getting 'faced again.”

“You're more stupid than you look.” Ratchet raised an optic ridge, “but yeah, thanks. Delivery boy.”

There was a moment where Rodimus was going to retort, but Drift patted him on the back gently and nodded at the exit. Wryly, he grinned at his friend and clicked his digits at him, knowing exactly what was going to happen when he left.

“Don't do anything I would.”

When the door was closed with a _thunk_ the two mechs turned their attention back to each other. Ratchet was too busy mentally patching up Drift, thinking about gentle touches and soft kisses against his frame to notice the other grinning at him.

“Not happy to see me?”

“You look like scrap. What have you been doing?”

He lifted an arm with a shrug, “being someone else's hero.”

“Hm.”

There was a short silence between them, Ratchet still scowling because he wasn't sure if this was real or if he'd finally lost his processor, when Drift suddenly bolted for the door. Alarmed that he might lose him again before he'd even had a chance to have him, he was about to tell him to wait when he heard the lock engage.  

Drift crossed the room quickly towards Ratchet and embraced him tightly, nuzzling his helm into his neck. It took Ratchet a few seconds to register the response and then he grasped him tightly back, one hand pressed tightly around his back and the other to his helm. The emotions between them finally settled, there was no more hesitancy to show and feel how they felt.

Drift muttered into him, “what kind of CMO lets someone obviously injured walk into his medbay without the offer of help?”

“A ex-CMO does.”

Carefully, Drift pulled away, tilting his helm quizzically, not quite sure if he could believe what he was hearing. The workaholic who had given up work.

“You finally gave it up?”

“Yeah.” He avoided the intense gaze, “it was time.”

“So, does that mean there's more time in your life for a startlingly handsome, brave mech with some stories to tell?”

“Nah, Magnus isn't my type.”

They exchanged wry grins and suddenly Drift's expression went serious, the thrumming in his spark having calmed but the thoughts still lingering.

“What?”

“I wasn't sure… if you'd still feel the same as when I left.”

Ratchet raised an optic ridge then stepped forward, grasping his face gently and kissing him eagerly. Drift's optics went wide with surprise then he reciprocated, his hands grasping onto his hips to make sure they were as close as they could be. Their kisses were deep and filled with passion and longing, their moans mingling together. Drift couldn't help himself, with the frame he so desperately thought of every time he fell into recharge and woke from, and all the time in between, he was suddenly filled up with lust. His hands began to roam up the strong back, dancing his digits between sensitive seams and smirking into the kiss as the groans deepened.

Ratchet returned the favour, pulling his hands down from Drift's face to his neck, tickling the cables there gently with expert hands and then one of them moved down, until he was stroking the huge dent across his chestplate. Drift pulled away, optics dimmed slightly but he brought his hand round to rest it against Ratchet's.

“I gave you medical supplies, you could have used them.”

“How else was I going to get you to touch me.”

But the medic had something sweeter in mind, pulling his hand away and trailing gentle kisses over the marks and he knew he'd fix the physical wounds soon enough, but there were some emotional ones that needed tending to first. It didn't need saying that the time on his own had affected Drift, Ratchet could see it hiding behind the nonchalant facade and the silly grin. The best treatment was going to be compassion and kindness and warmth.

With a soft ex-vent, Drift tipped his helm back relishing in the caresses and kisses. He'd thought a lot about their reunion and in his mind he'd always thought it would be a frenzy of passion, but this tender moment had melted all of the tension away leaving only a need for affection in whatever way it was delivered. Ratchet's hands danced over his sides as the kisses continued over his chest and up to his shoulders, a quiet rumble coming from Drift as he enjoyed it.

Ratchet interlinked his digits into Drift's and started to pull him towards the small fold down berth in the corner of the medbay that the medic sometimes used when his frame was too weary to retreat to his more comfortable habsuite. It was used too often since Drift's exile, his living quarters held the ghosts of happier times and they haunted him even whilst he recharged.

With a small smile, Ratchet picked his beloved up and onto the berth before they had a chance to argue over it, but Drift was content to have the other mech lay his frame into him. He was still fatigued by the long journey, having barely stopped for recharging and energon because to him that was time wasted when he could have been here, with him.

They kissed again but this time slower and sweeter, and they both opened their panels at the same time. Drift felt a tingle creep down his backstrut as the tip of Ratchet's spike brushed his already wet valve. Gradually he slid the whole length into Drift and when he was full, he groaned and fluttered his optics offline. Ratchet nuzzled into his audials, a soft little ex-vent escaping him.

“I missed you.”

“Missed me or this?”

Drift gave his spike a good squeeze with his valve and Ratchet grunted, planting a soft kiss against his helm.

“I was trying to be nice.”

“Well don't, it's not you,” Drift was smirking, his fondness evident in his tone of voice, “but I missed you too, Ratty.”

Carefully, Ratchet redrew nearly all of the way out before gliding his spike back in, enjoying the small murmur Drift let out. His optics were closed and so Ratchet was watching him. He couldn't help the concern and the worry wash over him as he took in all the scrapes across the face that was twisted in pleasure, and he brushed a soft touch against one of his dented finials. There was another squeeze of his spike and his optics fluttered to life again, an almost shy smile across his features.

To take the attention away from him, Drift lazily threw his arms over Ratchet's shoulders and pulled him in for more kisses. He jerked his hips up a little, an invitation for more, and Ratchet happily complied. Their interfacing was intense but easy, less desire and more love.

Drift's charge grew steadily but then he overloaded quickly, grasping his legs around Ratchet and throwing his helm back with a groan. The medic was watching him still, and he knew that the way his spark hummed in his chest had nothing to do with a physical ailment. He wanted to keep this moment forever, watching Drift writhe blissfully underneath him and feeling the love warming him, but the tightness around his spike meant he was nearing his own overload. When the mech underneath him spoke with a husky ex-vent, it tipped him over.

“Oh Ratchet.”

When Drift onlined again, he found Ratchet tucked underneath his arm as best as they could manage on a tiny berth. He was either recharging or had his optics closed, and he didn't want to disturb him with words. He watched him attentively, smiling a little and as he brushed his helm, the medic spoke.

“So you want the other stuff fixing now?”

He laughed lightly, “are you even up to it?”

“I'm not that tired.”

“I meant are you even good at your job anymore?”

Dimmed optics narrowed up at him and he laughed again, squishing Ratchet tightly against his side.

“It can wait. All I want is a proper berth and to not wake in a panic wondering where I am.”

With a nod, Ratchet pulled himself up, propping himself up onto his elbow and tracing a digit across where the Autobot badge used to lie.

“I can put your badge back on too. If you want.”

“Does it really matter?” He shrugged, “my intentions are true, do they need to be emblazoned across my chest for someone to realise?”

“Your intentions sure are true in a berth, I'll vouch for that.” Ratchet finally got up, “c'mon, you can come hog my other berth, where I might have a chance of more space.”

As Drift waited outside the door for Ratchet to lock up the medbay, he was leaning against the corridor wall, barely paying attention, drowsy from interfacing and his highly charged emotional state finally plateauing. So when Ultra Magnus passed by with another mech in tow, it took him a frightful few seconds to recognise who it was. He pulled himself up straight, hands searching for the hilt of his swords.

“It's good to have you back. I've filled in most of the paperwork for your return, but there will be some of your own to do.”

Ultra Magnus was met by a dumbstruck expression and a shifty glance to his side before he understood, kind of.

“Oh, sorry, how improper of me, Megatron is accompanying us on our quest for a short while and has so far proved an excellent co-captain. Much more, ahem, responsive to the rules than Rodimus. Megatron this is-”

“Drift,” the mech nodded with a small smile, “we have met. I am glad to see that I am leading in your good example, and I hope to see you in our officer's meeting tomorrow.”

The white mech managed to throw some semblance of a less bewildered expression together and a small smile. Ultra Magnus watched the interaction between them steadily and then began walking once again in the direction he was heading when he felt the threat level had fallen sufficiently. Megatron raised a hand in recognition at Ratchet before following behind.

“If only I'd known it was that easy to shut you up. Just bring your old boss aboard and that's it, starstruck.”

“Why did you not think to warn me? Or Rodimus?!”

“Oh no, I did think about it, but then I knew I wanted to see the look on your face when you ran into him. Just as hilarious as I expected.”

Drift narrowed his optics in the direction of where Ratchet was stood with a sly smile plastered across his face and arms folded against his chest. It was almost like he was inviting him to start an argument about it.

“And I deserve it, for doing the same to you right?”

“Of course. Now stop with the adorable little frowny face before I scoop you up again.”

They made their way casually back to Ratchet's habsuite, Drift's arm slung around his shoulder whilst his partner pulled him closely into him around his waist. They chatted a little, greeted some of the other crew members along the way but they were glad when they finally reached their destination and they could settle down in the darkness together.

Drift was most definitely too exhausted to speak and Ratchet wasn't one for talking aimlessly anyway, so they settled into a comfortable silence, and it wasn't long before they both slipped into recharge, entangled together the way they used to be, Drift sprawled out as much as he could manage, one leg hooked over where Ratchet would lay on his side tucked up neatly.

When panic gripped him and tossed him unceremoniously from his rest, Drift was venting hard and his optics were wide with fear. Fortunately it was chased away by a gentle red hand pressed against his chest and a quiet murmur, and it stayed away for the rest of his recharge.

 


End file.
